Gee Mom, I Wanna Go Home
by flipfloppingotaku
Summary: A standard weekend for the mercs we know and love. Exploding baseball, campfires, booze, a touch of angst and just a hint of lunacy. Insert statement about crap summary here.


**Inspiration is a fickle bitch isn't it? I was really having trouble deciding whether or not to add my OC here, but I've changed it so she doesn't show up at all. Even in the original version she barely made a real difference aside from one or two conversations and a verse in the song. Yup, this becomes a songfic at a certain point, but in my opinion it fits. If you want to know the real version or at least learn how it goes, the story title is the name of the song. During the song, the accents disappear. I know it's not as authentic, but it's hard enough to write accented dialogue as it is.**

**I don't own TF2 or MASH.**

* * *

**/**

"C'mon Cyclops, lob anudda' one at me!"

"Keep yer' pants on lad, it's comin!"

Demoman reloaded his grenade launcher and took aim at the Scout.

"Ye ready boyo?"

"Hell yeah man! Do it!" The younger man asserted bringing up his bat, ready to swing.

"Here it comes!" The weapon fired its flashing, red grenade, and Scout braced himself for the right moment. If he missed, he would be blown to smithereens and he knew it. But that was part of the fun. As the explosive egg neared his face, Scout took a mighty swing with his trusty bat and heard a satisfying _clunk _as his weapon connected.

The bomb flew in a high arc, clear over the base as another man carefully aimed his rifle at the soon-to-be firework.

"Steady, steady…" he whispered to himself as he lead his target for at least two long seconds before firing a round of his own. The long, high caliber bullet flew straight and true and swiftly connected with the bomb, making it detonate in midair with a loud _BOOM!_

"Heh he he, you wankers are makin' this too easy!" Sniper called down to his comrades on the ground.

"Hey fuck you Snipes! That was a perfect home run an' you know it!" The young Scout shouted back.

"Yew were nearly dust tha' time boyo, ye don' wan' to be out for the whole weekend eh?"

Respawn was still functional on weekends, so the incredibly dangerous game that the three mercs were playing wouldn't really _kill_ them; but if they died, they wouldn't come back until the next fighting day. No one wanted to spend their precious relaxation time in the disturbing limbo of respawn, but then Scout was the only one in real danger of that at the moment.

The activity the three were engaged in was something that Scout himself put together. Demo lobs his grenades or other explosive packages at Scout, who tries to hit them away before they explode in his face. Then once they're in the air, Sniper shoots them out of the sky. When Soldier first got wind of their game, he wasn't at all pleased with the waste of precious ammo, but surprisingly Sniper had stepped to convince him otherwise, claiming it was good practice for battle. This reasoning seemed to satisfy Soldier, and he henceforth let the three continue playing on weekends…as long as the explosions didn't damage the base.

"OH YEAH! Gimme a challenge here Demo, I can see your shots a mile away!" Scout taunted, eager to send another bomb skyward.

"Ok boyo, last one for now, then I need a drink." The one-eyed man cocked his launcher again with a dangerous smirk on his face. At the last minute, he jerked the weapon to the side, sending his charge far off the course Scout had been expecting.

In a rush of panic, Scout ran to catch up with the blinking bomb, diving to swing at it awkwardly before it hit the ground. He succeeded at hitting the grenade, but tripped and slid into a pile of crates with a "WHOAWHOAWHOAWHOAAAAAAAAAAAHH HH!"

The awkward swing and connect made for an awkward arc that Sniper was having trouble following. His first shot missed, and he cursed as he quickly reloaded to take another. The second shot hit, sending the grenade into fragmented oblivion not far from where Scout had crashed. Even in his dazed state, Scout felt the shockwave of the explosion as well as some of the heat. Not enough to hurt him at all, but enough to tell him that the explosion was a lot closer than he would have liked.

"What the fuck man?" He yelled at Sniper as he picked himself up. "What kinda marksman are you?"

"'S not my fault that your last swing couldn't hit the thing as far as I could throw our Heavy!" The Aussie taunted back.

"Naw man, Demo's the one who fucked up 'is shot!" Scout loudly accused the Scotsman, who was damn near hysterical with laughter.

"HAha, ye…ye said ye wanted a challenge boyo heehee…" The man was desperately clutching at his gut, as if the situation he found so funny was literally side-splitting. Despite his fuming, Scout couldn't help but feel a smile begin to creep onto his face and chuckles forming in his throat. Demoman's laughter was notoriously contagious and soon Scout was bending over with laughter as well. Sniper did his best to keep his head and remain an adult, but his efforts were in vain and he too began laughing loudly.

Spy, genuinely curious as to what was so funny, came up to Sniper with a raised eyebrow. It was rare for the hardened bushman to be in such good spirits.

"'E…ha, 'e really almost bit the dust 'e did!" The rifleman managed to say before leaning onto a wall covered with chipped red paint, not bothering to hold back his laughter anymore.

Spy gave the man another quizzical look and realized he was in no state to let him in on the joke. The masked man then looked down at the other two and saw them both rolling in the dirt, their ha-ha's and ho-ho's clearly audible even from so far away.

"Aw man, that was so fuckin' close man…tchgeeheehee!"

Demoman couldn't even force his words out, there was no air left for them. Instead he just did a weird pantomime that only vaguely described what had happened, adding a few sound effects and a girlish scream that was supposed to be Scout.

Spy just chuckled a couple of times before putting a firm, gloved hand on Sniper's shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie just enough to listen to what the spook had to say.

"I realize zat you all are having a wonderful time, and I 'ate to interrupt, but Engineer wanted me to tell you lot zat 'e is planning anozher campfire zis evening."

Even through his giddy state of mind, Sniper managed to nod that he understood. Engie always planned out campfire on Saturday night (plans that Pyro always supported,) and they would always have s'mores and hotdogs that were purchased in town the night before. It was a time for them to drink, sing songs and just enjoy each other's company. Everyone on the team had their little annoyances and spats with each other, but the Saturday night campfires were a place where all that was put aside for the sake of comeraderie. Even Spy enjoyed attending them.

"Ok mate," Sniper breathed deeply, trying to replace the valuable oxygen the laughing fit had rapidly consumed. "I'll tell 'em once we-they've calmed down a bit."

With his message delivered, and no desire to catch the giggles, Spy nodded once and left to go about his own, sneaky business. He hadn't escaped uninfected though, a small smile was still stuck to his face.

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/

Engie's cooler rattled and clinked, hinting at it ice and beer it contained as he placed it next to the log he usually sat on. He set his guitar on his lap and worked on tuning it while Heavy gathered together some old wood to pile in the ring of bricks and cinderblocks that would contain the fire. Pyro looked on anxiously, waiting for his chance to set the easily burned material alight, but remained patient as he watched the pile grow.

The light of the setting sun, if viewed from the right angle, made the pile look like it was already burning.

The three mavericks who were out playing with bombs soon joined the men around the soon to be bonfire, Sniper and Demoman carrying more beer, Scout bringing the pronged roasting sticks and marshmallows.

Engie looked up from his instrument at their approach.

"Y'all are a might early if you wanted to start cookin'." The Texan said in his typical, well-mannered tone.

"We know, jus' thought we'd bring this stuff out here 'n see if ya needed help settin' up."

Engie chuckled good naturedly. "Nah, we got this covered boys, maybe just go tell the rest that we'll be ready soon?"

"Sure, I can do dat." Said Scout as he set down the load in his arms.

"Well git goin' boy, we don't want Medic t'sit all alone in the medbay again."

The runner sprinted back into the base to gather the missing members of the group. Soldier was in the war room making MORE useless and suicidal plans. Medic was hunched over some kind of bloody mass on an operating table, Scout wasn't quite curious enough to ask what he was doing, and delivered the news as quickly as he could. The doctor replied with a quick 'Ja' and Scout left to find Spy.

The only place he could think to look for the masked man was his room, so he headed there and knocked on his door. There was no answer, but that didn't stop Scout from shouting through the door.

"Yo ferret face! The fire's almost ready, come by whenever!"

If the man wasn't in his room, then he would at least have heard Scout's yelling. On his way out, Scout went back to the kitchen to pick up the chocolate and graham crackers. As a final thought, he also scooped up several cans of soda.

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/

When Scout came back outside with the rest of the s'more ingredients, the fire had just been lit. Engie was plucking at his guitar while the others passed around beers. Spy had shown up and was chatting with Sniper, his dress coat shed and sleeves rolled up for a more casual look. Medic was sporting a similar style as he approached the group and took a seat next to Heavy.

"What took ya so long doc?" Scout asked from his spot.

"No doubt you saw I vas in ze middle of somezhing." The German replied. "It is important to keep my vorkspace clean so I can patch up you idiots vhen you hurt yourselves."

"Oh doc, ye should've joined us up top iffn' ye wanted to hone yer skills!" Demoman said before getting to work draining his fourth bottle of Scrumpy.

"I don't see how we could work a saw or the Medigun into a game of Snipe n' Splode mate." Sniper said cooly before taking a bite of hot dog, slathered in mustard. He hadn't cooked his for a long time, he liked his meat a little raw.

"Hey, I thought we agreed it was called Bomb Battin'!" Scout interjected. This was clearly a topic of much debate between the three.

"No ye little beansprout, 's called 'Splode the Scout!" Demo countered both of them, not even woozy from the gross amount of alcohol he had already consumed. Spy just rolled his eyes at their childish argument and took a long drag from his ever present cigarette.

"He could help keep him on his toes so 'e doesn't miss next time."

"Hey! I didn't miss drunkie! Sniper's the one who needs to stay focused!"

"I'm plenty focused wanker! You just fouled up the hit!"

"Spy, you were there right?" Scout turned to the masked man. "Which one o' us fucked up?"

The Frenchman groaned and took a decidedly unrefined gulp of the grossly bitter drink his teammates seemed to enjoy so much. When this failed to make Scout drop the question, he flicked the stub of his cigarette at him.

"All I saw was all three of you keeling over with laughter, kindly leave me out of it!"

"C'mon Spy, you had to have seen somethin'! You always know what's goin' on!"

"Now, now fellas, whatever it was ain't nothin' to get too worked up over." Engie interrupted, not once stopping his strumming of his guitar. As if by some hypnotic spell, the men ceased arguing and went back to heating their meals.

As the night wore on and the alcohol went to people's heads, songs broke out around the campfire. It was mostly just Demoman and Heavy at first, but one by one others started joining in. At one point, Pyro seemed to get an idea and brought out a notebook. The firebug showed it to Engie who was quite surprised by what he was looking at.

"Well I'll be, I didn't know you could write music Pyro."

"Mmmrph mh mmrrrmmh." The gas mask responded with a shrug.

"What? Lemme see that thing." Said Scout, trying to snatch it away from Engie.

"Can you even read music _dummkopf_?" Medic asked, looking a little buzzed. His drinking was clearly starting to catch up with him.

Pyro had known that people would start fighting over his notebook when he first showed it, so he took it back from Engineer and ripped out a few pages. He then proceeded to hand them out to each of his teammates. Now they each had a copy of the song he wrote and they wouldn't have to fight. He didn't like seeing his friends angry with each other, but he knew most of the time their arguments were just all in good fun.

"Well, let's give it a try anyhow doc. It don't matter if he can't read notes, he'll catch on when he picks up the tune."

"_If_ he does…"

Engineer studied his copy of the song until he had it memorized and picked up his guitar again. His first few strums were experimental, to find the right notes. He occasionally turned his goggled gaze to Pyro, looking for confirmation that he was playing it the way the rubber suited guy wanted. Once he found a comfortable rhythm, he began the first verse.

**"The Heavy in RED army,**

**Is really big an' strong,**

**If you try to take his weapon,**

**Hoo boy, you just done wrong!**

**Oh I don't want no more of army life, gee mom, I wanna go home!"**

With the first verse out, the rest quickly caught on to how to sing the rest of it. Heavy let out a hearty laugh and stood up to sing a verse himself.

**"The Sniper in RED army,**

**His eye is really keen,**

**Don't try to do his dishes,**

**None of the jars are clean!"**

This time at least half the group joined the chorus after the sniggering went down.

**"Oh I don't want no more of army life, gee mom, I wanna go home!"**

Sniper figured out the pattern and was reluctant to sing himself, but he didn't want to upset the rhythm either and rose for his turn after a hearty swig of beer.

**"The Demo in Red army,**

**He knows how to have fun,**

**His breath is so damn stinky,**

**His own teammates would run!"**

**"Oh I don't want no more of army life, gee mom, I wanna go home!"**

Demoman was quick to get to his feet, but was clearly unsteady. This didn't stop him from singing though.

**"The Scout in the RED army,**

**You know he's really fast,**

**'Fore you have a chance to catch him,**

**He's already beat your ass!"**

When he was done, Demo fell onto his back and passed out before the chorus finished. Scout eagerly took his turn, he knew exactly who to sing at.

**"The Spy in the RED army,**

**He thinks he's debonair,**

**But if you took his mask off,**

**You'd see he has no hair!"**

While the chorus repeated again, Spy got up from his seat and gave the runner a satisfying clock on the head. Sure it was Pyro's song, but Scout was an easier target. Much to the Frenchman's dismay, it was his turn to sing a verse. He realized he didn't have a choice in the matter though, and like Sniper had done, he took a hefty drink first.

**"The Medic in RED army,**

**Is not right in the head,**

**He'll tell you 'this won't hurt a bit,'**

**And then you wake up dead!"**

Having done his part, and punished Scout for being the annoying twerp that he was, Spy returned to his seat and joined in the chorus.

**"Oh I don't want no more of army life, gee mom, I wanna go home!"**

Medic was already very tipsy when his turn came around. Normally he would adamantly refuse to sing something so childish, but at the moment he was far too drunk to care.

**"The Soldier in RED army,**

**Will never shut his face,**

**Don't try to interrupt him,**

**Or he'll send you into space!"**

**"Oh I don't want no more of army life, gee mom, I wanna go home!"**

Soldier stood proud and stiff as if he were about to sing his beloved national anthem. His voice was grating and rough, but no one dared to deny him his turn if the previous verse was any indication.

**"The Pyro in RED army,**

**You never see his face,**

**But if you saw under the suit,**

**Your heart would start to race!"**

A few looks were exchanged, wondering what that could possibly mean, but it wasn't dwelled on for long. For a moment everyone was worried about what would happen now that it was the mysterious mumbler's turn to sing, none of them would be able to understand a word of what he/she/it said. Pyro had anticipated this as well and came prepared for it. He pulled out a megaphone that none of the others had noticed before and fast as lightning screwed off one of his masks filters to replace it with the voice amplifier. The sound was raspy, much more so than a normal person's would be if they used one, but it was at least understandable.

**"The Engie in RED army,**

**We're always on his case,**

**Someday he'll snap and suddenly,**

**Build something on your face!"**

The megaphone was replaced with a normal mask filter, returning Pyro's voice to incoherent mumbles. Now that the song had come full circle, Engineer strummed them all into the final round of the chorus.

**"Oh I don't want no more of army life, gee mom, I wanna go, but they won't let me go, gee mom, I wanna go hoooooooome!"**

When the song was over there was cheering and laughter all around for several minutes as the mercenaries drunkenly criticized each other's performances and resang their favorite verses. The excitement and good cheer slowly ebbed away until the words of the chorus were stuck in their minds.

Scout sniffed and rubbed his nose like it itched. He really did miss home and thinking about it too much usually got him a little teary eyed. All the money he was making here was headed straight to Boston, his Ma needed it a lot more than he did. Looking around the fire, he saw that the others were also deep in thought.

Spy exhaled a long breath of smoke, tilting his head to the sky. The stars were very clear out in the middle of nowhere without the light of cities to blot them out. As far as he was concerned, his home was farther than any one of those billions of glowing dots. Hell, he didn't even really have one, his job made him move about so much. Muscle memory kicked in as he took out another cigarette and used his dying one to light it, even offering the half empty box to Sniper.

The Aussie said nothing, but didn't turn down Spy's offer. Something about whatever melancholy thoughts were in the Frenchman's head had inspired a small act of charity and who was he to refuse a free smoke? Sniper skewered a marshmallow and allowed it to catch fire, using the flaming treat to light the cigarette. His home was in a whole other hemisphere, but he didn't really miss it too much. As long as he could pop heads for a living he didn't care where he was in the world. Smoke now alight, he blew out the marshmallow and tossed it and the stick aside.

Heavy caught the stick and blew on the blackened marshmallow to cool it off some more. He squeezed it between two crackers and some chocolate, just like Scout had shown him, though his giant fingers made the top cracker break. He whispered a short Russian curse before shoving the s'more in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. He loved his country of Mother Russia, he really did, but some of his memories there were just too painful to return to. His job under Redmond Mann was the best thing he could have asked for, a way to vent the anger that always had at least an ember in his gut, and to be paid handsomely for doing it. Medic understood that more than anyone.

Medic slumped against Heavy's leg as the larger man munched a s'more. He was very close to dozing off, the beer making his normally sharp and brilliant mind swim in clouds. He knew that alcohol was a powerful depressant, and boy did he have plenty of memories that were depressing to say the least. Now they were all rushing into his head at once. He idley scratched at a thick scar on his forearm. It didn't itch, it was just a bad habit. There used to be a string of faded numbers there but he fixed that first chance he got, sliced the damned ink-stained skin right off. It never healed properly, so there was now a big scar, but at least the numbers were gone.

Also drunk out of his mind was Demoman. After passing out and falling back, he had awakened not long before the final verse of Pyro's song, but was far too dizzy to try righting himself. His thoughts strayed to his own Mum. He often worried about how the blind old woman was getting along without him, but he knew she was strong and the neighbors would help if any real trouble happened. A familiar sick feeling told him that his eighteenth bottle of Scrumpy wanted to come back and say hello, so he quietly rolled onto his side and let loose the poison. That part was not so quiet.

Engineer quickly turned when he heard the retching and instantly regretted it. He fought to keep his dinner down and eventually succeeded. Hotdogs and s'mores were nice and all, but they couldn't hold a candle to his wife's ribs and bacon. The Texan slowly put down his guitar, having lost any desire to strum it as he remembered the comforting smell of her perfume, the feel of her hair and skin, and the sound of her laugh. He sighed forlornly and drained his beer.

Soldier would never acknowledge homesickness. It was a sign of weakness to him, an excuse for lazy hippie maggots to cry to their mommies because life was too damn hard. Maybe that was why the look on his face was even more stoic than usual, it was his attempt to further deny any real emotion besides psychotic rage existed, even as thoughts of his Wisconsin home threatened to break his mask.

Even more unreadable was Pyro. The strange person in a rubber suit just stared into the fire, lost in whatever thoughts floated through his mind. Were they happy thoughts? Were they sad ones? No one would really know for sure what kind of thoughts he was having, but whatever they were, they caused tears to fall beneath the mask.

Unable to take the silence anymore, Scout spoke up.

"Y'know, it really ain't that bad here." The group looked at him questioningly and the rest of his words dried up.

"Leetle Scout is right." Heavy agreed. "We have good job, have lots of fun, kill many pesky BLU's."

Engie chuckled. "We do at that."

Sniper shot some smoke from his nose with an amused smirk. "S'long as the pay is good, I'm not complainin'."

"What on earth do you even plan to use your money for?" Spy asked with a grin. "More jars to piss in?"

"Maybe, s'not your business is it spook?"

"Ya know how he is lad, _everythin_' is his bloody –hic- business…" Demo slurred from his place on the ground.

Relieved that the night was no longer going to end on a sour note, the RED army joked and relaxed until the fire died. Those that could still see straight stayed behind to clean up while the others carried and/or dragged each other back inside the base to go to bed. Not a single one of them woke up until at least noon the next day, and nearly all had terrible hangovers. No matter. They would each get over it in their own way and be in tip top shape the next morning so they could do the job they loved.

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/

**Bit of a weird rollercoaster in terms of mood, I know, but there was no way a song like this wouldn't change the mood there right quick. I apologize for the slight OOCness, but hopefully I reined it back quickly enough. Figuring out how Pyro would sing was a real problem, but weirder things have happened right? Like and fav if you enjoyed, review so I can know what I did wrong. Or what I did right. Whichever floats your boat.**


End file.
